Categories > Original > Drama

I'll find you when the sun goes black

by dustyhalo 0 reviews

[ONE SHOT] What happens when someone who has it all falls apart? She has a home, she has fame, she has money, she has her own family; a loving husband and two children. She also has a drink problem...

Category: Drama - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2013-04-24 - Updated: 2013-04-24 - 4775 words - Complete

“Either you open the door, or I’m gonna kick the fucker down!” He banged his fist on the bathroom door. He was pissed off.
“Please,” I begged. “I just need more time!”
“For what?!” He roared. “You’ve had all the time in the fucking world! It’s time to face it all!”
I balled my eyes out. I didn’t want to face this shit. He had given me so many chances over the last year, and one by one, I blew them all.
“Please, just give me one more hour!” I sobbed. “Just until I can clear my head.”
“Andy’s got the kids.” He leant up against the door and sighed. “It’s just you and me. And I’m going to count to three. If you haven’t opened up the door by then, then I’ll open it up for you. And I can’t promise you that I’ll be nice when I do.”
“No! Mitch! Just, please!” I cried. “Just a little more time!”
“One.” He removed himself from the door. I could hear his breathing intensify as the adrenalin raced through his veins as he readied himself.
“ONE MORE HOUR!” I screamed.

My name is Alaina. I am twenty-seven years old. I was born and raised in San Francisco. My dream in life was to be the front woman of the world’s biggest metal band. My parent’s being the devoured Catholics that they are didn’t approve of this; so I ran away from home at the age of sixteen and caught a train down to this city of L.A. I lived it rough for two years from that point. I slept under bridges, I ate left over food from restaurants, and I showered in the invalid’s bathroom sinks in malls. And when it was raining I was happy I could finally wash my hair.
I caught the cold one freezing winter night towards the end of my homelessness, and the cold turned into a cough, and the cough turned into bronchitis. I could barely breathe. My throat was so raw it hurt just to swallow water, let alone eat. I became so stick thin and my eyes were sunken in. I was just waiting for the reaper to come along and point his skeleton finger at me and tell me my time had come. But he never came.
So I took a trip down to a bridge over-looking the central L.A motorway, and I got up on top of the ledge. Alaina Dawnson, eighteen years of age fled the city of cafés for the city of L.A, to find her dreams shattered on the motorway beneath her. I had been so determined up until that point to find an opportunity around every corner, to find the door that would lead me to my dreams. And there I was, standing on the edge of the bridge, ready to jump. I bent my knees slightly and swung my arms back, ready to throw myself off.
A voice from behind told me not to do it. I turned around. He was a young boy, the same age as me. He told me that there was always another way out of a hole but I had to be prepared to find it. He held out his hand and asked me to grab on to it so that he could help me down; he offered his place as a safe place to sleep for the night. I figured that things couldn’t possibly get any lower than they already had, so I agreed.
His name was Corey Miller. He lived with four other boys who were in a band that they hadn’t named yet and were still looking for a vocalist. They spent days, nights and weeks nursing me back to health. I sat in the lounge as they jammed. The music was pretty hardcore. Just out of pure curiosity, I picked up the mic and screamed out my frustration of not being able to accomplish what I had came to L.A for.
Within months of that moment, we had gone from being strangers in a house nursing a nearly-dead girl back to health, to being Counting the Carnage opening up for bands like Lamb of God and Parkway Drive. Within two years we were huge. We were selling out arena shows and albums across the globe. We made our way down to Australia for the No Sleep Till tour. Although I was who and what I wanted to be, I still wasn’t entirely happy; I loved the boys in the band and they loved me, but it was a sibling kind of love. I didn’t have the kind of love in my life that I had been craving for a while. That changed on that tour, when I met Mitch Lucker of Suicide Silence.
He walked into the room with the gaping holes in his ears and the tattoos from his chin down to his toes. We very quickly became inseparable from the hip. He was everything I never thought existed.
He was a good listener, but would talk my ears off. He was gentle but he was firm. He was calm but he refused to take my melodramatic shit. He was quiet but he got up on stage and screamed his lungs out. He could sit still but he couldn’t stop moving. He contradicted himself in everyway; he was perfectly flawed.
We got married at the age of twenty-one; our third year anniversary. The wedding was set on Huntington Beach and to my surprise my parent’s not only showed up, but my Dad walked me down the isle. My Mom told me how proud of me she was; despite me running away. We said two little words, and he grabbed me by the arms and swung me down. Just before I hit the floor he caught me. He caressed the side of my face and whispered “I love you,” before kissing me in front of everybody. We were officially hitched.
It was the best night of our young lives. He woke me up early in the morning the next day to tell me we were going off on our honeymoon. He refused to tell me where he was taking me. Not until we got to the airport and I realized he was whisking me away to the Maldives for two weeks, and then to Europe for another two weeks.
Life was at its peak when a year later Suicide Silence and Counting the Carnage toured the world together. It was hard for Mitch and I to spend time together when we were both in touring bands; so the decision for the joint world tour was the best thing that ever happened to us. We partied all night and slept all day, only to get up at the same time to play a show and do it all over again. Sometimes we did interviews or photoshoots drunk off our faces or still ruthlessly hung-over from a really heavy night three nights ago. Towards the end of the world tour, I found out I was pregnant. When I actually managed to pluck up the courage to tell Mitch he was absolutely ecstatic. We had agreed we would wait until the second trimester before announcing it; but he screamed that he was going to be a Dad soon on stage that night. I was so stoked that he was so stoked that I couldn’t bring myself to be even slightly annoyed with him.
Our son was born months later and we named him Glenn, after Glenn Danzig of the Misfits. Despite the sleepless nights and the shitty and pissy nappies; we were happy parents with a happy baby. With me being an only child, I expressed my concerned to Mitch about not wanting Glenn to grow up without a sibling close to his age; as that’s what I had always wanted; a little brother or little sister to run around after and be annoyed by. Mitch agreed that it wouldn’t be right to let Glenn grow up like that. So when Glenn hit fifteen months, we started trying for another. And when Glenn was twenty-seven months old, our daughter was born.
We weren’t able to find out the sex of our second baby as she had her legs crossed during the ultrasounds. So when she was born and Mitch realized he finally had his little girl, he burst into tears. We named her Aurora. And everything was okay until the realization hit me; Only Mitch was stoked about the arrival of the new baby. It was me who didn’t really want her. I wasn’t nasty to her, but I just could not bond with her the way Glenn and I did. I felt like a horrible human being, and like I didn’t deserve to be a mother. I finally worked up the guts to tell Mitch about this. After he took me back to my midwife and doctors, we learned that I had this little thing called Post-Natal Depression, and that it was completely normal and a lot of women suffered with what I was feeling; especially the inability to bond with the baby.
It was all down hill from there. I had started drinking heavily on the odd occasion. Before the kids I was the party animal of Counting the Carnage, but as soon as Glenn had made himself known; alcohol was a thing of the past.
I started going out on Saturday nights with some friends, which Mitch didn’t mind. He thought it would be for the best. Then I started going out on Friday nights, too. Progressively I got worse and worse and Mitch was trying his best to look after the kids and try to get me under control. It had got to the point where I was drinking every night. All the help that came flying at me I threw off. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t need their help. I wasn’t even in need of any help. I was just revisiting my party days.
I had finally warded off all my close friends and my parents gave up on me. Andy, Mitch’s best friend had also given up on me and was starting to get into Mitch’s ear. I was starting to pick up on the fact that I was getting a little bit out of line, with the way I was now drinking during the day. I tried to stop, but I would find myself craving it. I would deceive myself, telling myself that one drink wouldn’t hurt anyone. I was convinced by my own lies and didn’t even see that it was the part where one drink turned into passing out that hurt my family. Mitch was starting to get sick of it, he kept telling me that I needed to stop, and if I couldn’t for him or for myself then I needed to for the kids.
Being a pretty-much solo parent was starting to take its toll on Mitch. He left our kids at Andy’s place for the night while he went and stayed at a hotel to get some decent rest while I went out on another bender. I woke up early in the morning hung-over as hell, and had decided that I was going to spend some quality time with my family. I drove over to Andy’s place and only his sister with Asperger’s Syndrome was awake with the kids, she couldn’t recognize the tell-tale signs of intoxication. I was still just ever-so slightly drunk but I wasn’t going to admit it. I took the kids and drove straight into a 4WD not too far down the road from Mitch’s hotel room.
Thankfully no one was seriously hurt. Aurora, being only two had hit her head on the door and had a small gash on the side of her face. The other driver however, was pissed off. He had just bought the car. I balled my eyes out as I apologized to him over and over again as I pulled the kids out of the back to make sure they were alright. Once he saw that I had children he calmed down immediately, and we just exchanged insurance details. But then it got worse.
Mitch had seen or heard the collision from his hotel room and had a nosey to see who it was. When he recognized the car he bolted towards us. He practically snatched Aurora out of my arms and kept asking her if she was alright. When he realized she was fine, he questioned Glenn. Glenn was fine. He turned to me with pleading eyes, I said that I was fine he let out the biggest sigh of relief I have ever heard.
But then the police turned up and breathalyzed me, and informed Mitch that I was intoxicated. He didn't need to say anything; I could just tell by the way he was looking at me that his heart had sunk. His eyes had filled with tears and his mouth had slightly dropped. He was devastated. I looked to the ground. I couldn't bare to see him in that kind of agony, especially when I was the one who had caused it.
“Look at me.” He whispered. “I said fucking look at me!”
I slowly raised my eyes up; mine had filled with tears too. He was frowning and his lips were pursed. He was holding Aurora at his chest and covered her ears. Glenn was talking to the police officer.
“You better count your fucking blessings,” His voice shook from both the tears and the rage. “That my kids haven’t been hurt. This is it. You either get help or get out.”
He spoke to the police for a bit and then drove off. I went to the station where I was pretty much given a slap on the wrist for what I had done. They didn’t charge me for drink driving because I had actually just woken up. It was the alcohol that was still in my system that was the biggest problem. I was still slightly tipsy but it wasn’t like I couldn’t see straight. I could see just fine. I just slipped up once and SMACK!
I left the police station and I went back to our family home; it was empty. Empty in the sense nobody was home. I called up everybody I knew could possibly know where Mitch was but because I had lost all my friends in my own downward spiral, nobody even answered their phone. I lay in bed for three days drinking Jim Beam straight from the bottle before I decided to stop.
I poured the bottle down the drain and threw it out. I went to bed to go to sleep to sober up.
The next day Mitch turned up on his own to grab some more clothes for the kids. It was heart breaking to see him so angry at me. Don’t get me wrong, I downright knew I deserved it but that didn’t make the situation any less painful.
“Please,” I begged. “Just give me one more chance!”
“I’ve given you a chance, I’ve given you so many chances Alaina!” He yelled. “You almost killed my fucking children! How am I meant to forgive you for that?”
“I wasn’t drunk!” I cried. “It was the alcohol from the night before!”
“Oh that makes it okay then!” He rolled his eyes. “You are pathetic! You are worthless! You are nothing but a slave to substance! I’m not gonna stand in your way if that’s the path you want to go down. But you’re going down on your own; you’re not putting my children at risk anymore.”
“Mitch I am begging you,” My hands were clutched at my chest, and I was crying. “Please don’t leave me. I promise, this time I really really promise that I’ll stop drinking. Please believe me, this is my wake up call.”
“What part is the wake up call, Alaina?” He stormed up to me and bent down so that we were face to face. He was fuming. “The fact you put your own flesh and blood at risk, or the thought of telling your catholic parents you’re getting divorced because you have a drink problem?”
“It’s the thought of losing my family!” I cried. “Please Mitch, please just give me one month. One month to prove that I can do this!”
He looked down at his left hand. Across the knuckles he had just recently got the word “FAMILY” tattooed.
“I’ve got to think of my son and daughter,” He said as he looked up. “This isn’t safe for them.”
“For them, give me a chance for them,” I begged. “We can be a family again I promise, but I need that chance to prove it.”
He looked up to the ceiling and sighed, he dropped his arms to his sides. He thought hard and shook his head. He looked at me and held his eye contact. He bit his lower lip and frowned slightly. He nodded.
“One month. That’s it.” He held up his finger. “If you can’t stay sober for one month I’ll leave you and I’m going to take my kids with me.”
“Thank you,” I gasped. He shook his head.
“Don’t take this for granted, Alaina.” He pursed his lips. “You only get one shot.”
Things went so well. That night it was just Mitch and I talking about our plans for the future, and he went and got the kids the next day to bring them home.
I was three weeks into my ‘trial’ with Mitch. Aurora and I had the most amazing mother-to-daughter bond you could ever see. For the first time I could say “I love you” and actually mean it. I no longer felt like a horrible mother. Mitch had never looked as happy in the last year as he did then. But it was only a matter of time before it was all to fall apart again. The alcohol cravings never went away. I always struggled to fight that urge to have the bittersweet taste of bourbon in my mouth. Three weeks in and I tripped.
I bought a bottle of Jim Beam from the local liquor store along with some coke zero. It was going to be easier to hide the drinking as Glenn was only allowed to drink Zero, as opposed to classic coke; mass amounts of sugar = bad. I started sneaking the cheeky drinks. I never got plastered. I had maybe one or two a day, just to clench the dying thirst.
I was on google, browsing through some Alcoholic’s Anonymous services that might be local. I knew that even though one or two glasses of Jim Beam was nothing in comparison to what I was doing two months prior, but it was still there. The abuser; the monster within me that wouldn’t sleep unless I gave it some alcohol. I had to get rid of the beast before I slipped up and ruined my chance, and for the first time I was able to see that I couldn’t do it on my own.
But like I said, it was only a matter of time. Two days from my trial’s end, Glenn reaches over the table to grab my drink.
“UH UH UH!” I freaked, snatching the glass from him. “This is a big person’s cup darling. You have to use the little boys’ cup until you’re a little bit older or when you’ve mastered the art of not dropping the cup. Then you can use the big person’s cup. Would you like some Zero, too?”
He nodded. Mitch watched me as I took my drink with me from the table to the kitchen bench. As I reached into the shelf to grab a plastic sippy-cup, Mitch comes up behind me and takes a swig of my drink.
It was Jim Beam and Coke Zero.
I quickly poured Glenn a cup of Coke Zero, and handed it to him. I turned and looked at Mitch. He had his arms folded across his chest, he was looking at me like he had never been more disgusted in his life. He shook his head. I bolted upstairs to our room and locked myself in the bathroom. I sat on the floor and cried my eyes out into my hands. I knew this was my entire fault, I wasn’t trying to make myself look innocent or like I was saint. I just didn’t know how I had let myself get so out of control that I couldn’t last a month without alcohol, and now that addiction had reaped its way into my family life, and I knew I was going to lose everything I had worked so hard to gain.

He kicked the door once before the bolts scrambled out of their sockets and flew to the opposite side of the room. He punched the door and it fell down. Being in the corner of the bathroom I could only see his tattooed fingers grip the bottom of the door as he turned it on its side and he pulled it out of the room.
He stepped in and he looked at me. He shook his head. His eyes were full of tears.
“How could you do this to me?” He asked. “How could you do this to our family?”
I brought my knees up to my eyes and I sobbed. I just wanted it all to be over already.
“ANSWER ME!” He screamed.
“I don’t know!” I choked out. I couldn’t control the sobs and the tears as they seeped from me.
“You couldn’t even last a month!” He was now standing above me, yelling at the top of his lungs. “You promised we could all be a family again and how the fuck is this a family Alaina? You put my kids at risk, you swore sobriety when only I was to find my son who hasn’t even started school yet almost took a gulp of your own demise!”
“Mitch I am so sorry.” I looked up at him. I sniffed as the sobbing sounds escaped from me, I tried to control my breathing but it was pointless.
“Get up.” He said. I closed my eyes as I tried to stop more tears from flowing. “I SAID GET UP!”
He grabbed me with both fists full of my hair and hauled me up. I screamed at him to let me go. He slammed me against the wall and raised the back of his hand to the side of his head, and whacked me right across the face with his knuckles. He had never laid a hand on me the whole time I knew him, except for that one moment.
He grabbed me by the back of my hair and dragged me out into our bedroom before literally throwing me on the bed. He rolled me over onto my back and got on top of me, sitting lightly across my stomach with my arms pinned at my sides, I couldn’t move.
I slammed my eyes shut as I tried not cry hysterically at the sound of his voice repeating back to me all the things I had taken for granted.
“How could you be so STUPID!?” He growled as he moved himself off me. He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up till I was sitting up right. He shook me. “You fucking lied to me! Again! I believed you! You lied AGAIN!”
I shook my head.
“Yes you did!” He gripped my jaw. “You’re still fucking lying! You chose alcohol over your own family! What kind of person do you think that makes you?”
I looked at him. His eyes were red and swollen from tears; it was the first time I noticed that. His cheeks had tear stains streaked down them. I tried to think of something to say but my mind was blank. I was physically and mentally exhausted already, and I was as guilty as sin. He ran his hands through his hair and held them locked at the back of his head. He stood up and paced the room. I just sat there staring at the floor, just waiting for him to tell me to pack my bags and leave.
An hour had passed and neither of us spoke. Neither of us wanted the other to leave but we both had the same inkling feeling that it was only for the best; best for the kids at least. If they hadn’t of been in the picture then the mess wouldn’t have been as tragic.
“I need help.” I said, breaking the silence. “I need professional help.”
He sat down on the bed next to me and looked the ceiling for about a minute, before turning his head back to me, and nodded. It was the first time I had admitted it.
“The only reason I haven’t kicked you out yet is because I saw what you were searching up when I was on the phone to Andy.”
“I can’t do this without you.” I sobbed. “I know it sounds pathetic but it’s true. I don’t have it in me to fight this alone.”
“Do you remember my vows at our wedding?” He sighed and wiped his face.
“Some of them, ‘I promise I will always be there for you, I promise I will always love you, I promise that if we have children I’ll be the best Dad in the world.’ At least you held up your end of the bargain.” I looked at the ground.
“I also said that I’ll find you when the sun goes black.” He grabbed hold of my hand. “But you have to want help baby, I can’t fight these demons for you. But I can help you help yourself.”
“I want help, Mitch.” I looked at him in the eyes. “I want help with you at my side.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
He walked downstairs with me, as we scrolled through the different rehab facilities. We chose the Anna Maria Rehab Centre, near Central L.A.
He helped me pack my bags and held my hand as we walked out the door. He opened the passenger side door for me and threw my bags in the back. He got in the driver’s seat and turned the car on. He put his seat belt on and he paused. He looked at me and bit his bottom lip.
“Are you ready?” He asked.
I nodded as I frowned and tried my best to control my quivering lips. I was still pretty devastated at how out-of-control I had let myself get.
He drove us to the rehab centre and helped me check in. He brought my bags into the room for me. We both cried as we hugged each other goodbye, it was going to be a while before I was going to see him again.
“You’ll be safe here.” He said he lift my chin up with his fingers. “You’ll get the help you need.”
I nodded and wiped my eyes.
“I’ll make weekly visits,” He smiled. “But just me. I don’t want the kids to see this.”
“I don’t want them too either,” I forced myself to smile. “But what will you tell them?”
“That you’ve gone to visit an old friend.”
I hugged him one last time. He kissed the top of my head.
“I love you,” He said.
I kissed him.
“I love you too.”
He held my hands tight, and kissed them before turning away.
As soon as he left, a counsellor came through the door, and I began my three-month stay at Anna Maria where I was to get sober and stay sober.
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